Pain and Pleasure
by thenotsofabulouskilljoy
Summary: This was a kink-meme fill on the Hetalia archive. The request was that Francis goes through a full-body waxing (I chose with Arthur) and a bonus was if it was part of BDSM. Ye ask and ye shall receive. Spanking, rimming, and a hint of pet-play. Sexual content so don't read if it bothers you. Lame title and lame ending. I apologize for spelling/grammar mistakes. Make sure to review!


Arthur hums lightly to a merry tune playing on the radio, a cup of freshly made tea in one hand and his feet propped up on Francis' back. The entire ordeal had started with a bet, albeit a silly one: whomever was able to successfully prank Ludwig won his, dare they say, lover as a slave for the day. The two were foiled one way or another three times apiece before the Englishman came out victorious when he'd planted small ferns all in the German's office space at work, which infuriated the man but nevertheless gave Arthur the bragging rights and power over Francis.

It was odd now that he had so much control for such a limited amount of time; it is indeed consensual on both of their behalves but Arthur found it a bit hard to do anything to the elder without feeling a twinge of guilt. At the moment Francis was replacing his ragged plush chair for a footstool donning nothing but his boxers. Fine golden hair covered nearly the man's entire body, much to Arthur's dismay, which disgusted him no matter how many times he'd seen Francis in the nude.

"You have entirely too much hair, frog. It's utterly unattractive." A sneer twists on his face before he digs his heel slightly into Francis' lower spine, producing a small yelp. Nothing was ever off limits for them and the need for a safe-word wasn't even necessary but they had one just in case. "I think I should do something about that, yes?"

Drawing back his feet, Arthur places his teacup on its proper dish before standing tall over the kneeling figure. "I do believe that we have a waxing kit in the closet. Perhaps I should bring it out and get rid of this nasty rug." Slim fingertips trail the Frenchman's spine from the nape of his neck to the beginning of his boxers where his hand slides under the waistband.

Francis glances over his shoulder at the other blond while the soft hand gropes his bottom in a rough squeeze. Waxing would be far more painful than shaving, which he dearly wished Arthur would chose instead, but not completely unbearable should he be resigned to it.

"Go on then, crawl to the bathroom. I'll be there in a few moments." Arthur slaps Francis' bottom to start him off before standing. Knocking back his tea, he carries the tea set and kettle back into the kitchen to wash later on after he has his fun.

Francis moves away obediently down the hall and into the tiled room, settling down on a thick towel to keep somewhat warm. He hears Arthur approach before spotting the wiry man in the doorway. The Englishman wasn't too built physically but he had better wit and intellect than most people that Francis associated with; not that he thought any less of them, but Arthur was his absolute everything and no one could ever compare. From his never-quote-perfect hair that he loved to toy with on affectionate terms and fist during intimate nights to the soles of Arthur's feet, Arthur never failed to be perfect in his eyes.

"Good, frog. At least you can listen to orders correctly," he comments as he fetches the waxing kit from the closet. It was a small purchase he'd made whilst out looking for something to use against Francis for this very occasion. He'd shoved it in a bag of his yarn to curve the other's interest to search for the item. "I'll do your chest and stomach then your back and legs. You'll be still and quiet or you'll suffer the consequences. Understood?"

"Of course, ma chérie. I could never go against someone as handsome as you." Excitement laced in nervousness raises goose-bumps on the blond's skin, the bottom of one of Arthur's spit-shined loafers pushing him onto his back with a firm press to Francis' chest.

"Stop that sweet-talk and keep quiet." Arthur straddles the elder's hips with a scowl. Ripping open the package, he dumps the plethora of strips by the other's head. Each one had the waxy side covered with a protecting sheet so it didn't accidentally stick to the inside of the container that it came in. Peeling it away, the Englishman placed three in a neat row over the curly chest hair below him. He pauses a split moment before tearing them off one after the other.

A near scream exits the Frenchman as the sticky pad rips away the hair and causes a nearly unbearable sting. His dull fingernails dig into the male's thigh until a rude slap is settled onto his cheek. Confused blue eyes open at Arthur and his hands fall to his sides. A stern look meets Francis, making him gasp slowly. God, did he love it when Arthur took control like this.

"Do not touch me without permission, do you hear me?" He presses his palm to the hot, red skin to soothe the pain some, admiring the smooth skin absently. The blond barely takes notice of the subtle nod before he presses a few more strips to Francis' chest before ripping them off in the same manner.

It became a pattern. Place on the chest, yank off the strip, soothe the skin, reprimand Francis' whines, repeat. The elder was in near agony, writhing at every new sting. In mere minutes his arms and torso are smoother than he ever thought they could be. All that was left were his armpits and back before Arthur would move lower.

"Hands over your head. Just a bit more then I can do your back and I'll allow a break." Arthur waits a moment for Francis to comply, which he does hesitantly. He rubs on a strip and rips it away quickly with a wrinkle of his nose. Tears of initial pain spring into Francis' eyes at the heavy sting. That'd hurt more than the hair on his chest, far more.

Sucking in a heavy gasp, the Frenchman lowers the one arm to his side tightly before blinking away the tears. It didn't hurt enough to outright bawl but the shock of it brought on the waterworks. He sniffles as the action is done to his other armpit and more tears are produced.

"Oh shut it, twat. It can't possibly hurt all that much." Used strips were littered around him all over the bathroom floor. "I'll toss these in the trash. Lay on your stomach on the tile and it might help some." He advises, pushing up to gather the hairy strips. A twinge of guilt hits him but his facial expression is unchanging. This will come out in Francis' favour if he behaves. Besides, Arthur could do whatever he wanted to the blond with no consequence.

Whilst Arthur tosses away the handfuls of strips, the Frenchman rolls onto his front on the tile. Immediately the cool surface relieves the stinging of his aching chest, goose-bumps raising on the tender flesh. Weight settles on his lower bottom and another strip is placed onto his back. Luckily not much hair grew there, only in a patch on his lower back, but even then it was thin.

"You've been good, Francis. So good. I'll give you a treat after this, alright?" Pressing a gentle kiss to his neck to compensate, he tears away the strip. It takes only a few more strips and a couple whines to wax the elder's back fully. Half of him, save the beard which he would do later, was smooth. Arthur runs his hands over the skin appreciatively and hums lowly, nipping at the gentle flesh.

A purr rumbles in Francis' chest as the Englishman moves to the side off of his back and onto the tile. A finger beckons him between the younger male's legs and he obeys, pressing his cheek into Arthur's chest. Hands wander over the clean patches slowly. It felt odd to say the least.

"I almost miss it; you look like a damn twink without all that hair." Arthur laughs obnoxiously, delivering a pinch to a bit of skin above Francis' navel before kissing his right cheekbone firmly. "Hopefully for you, it'll grow back quickly. I couldn't imagine being in your position, frog."

A frown settles on his face and Francis bites back a slew of retorts, knowing Arthur would make him pay dearly for any backtalk. That much was confirmed this morning when he'd gotten a bit too grabby and romantic. One firm paddling later Francis was obedient once more. Only a few hours left, though, and he could get his dear Englishman back.

"Lay back, time for your legs." Smirking, he watches Francis lay back before he pulls off the elder's boxers and tosses them aside quickly. Cold air hits his lower regions and Francs covers himself with his hands quickly, ignoring the look that Arthur gives him.

He places strips all over Francis' thighs and calves before stripping them off. Surprisingly the sting wasn't as harsh here as it was in more tender areas. Rubbing the red area, the Englishman takes a momentary break. How much would it hurt Francis if he went through with an entire full-body waxing, privates and all? He'd certainly owe him a great compensation later if he did.

"Francis, you may speak to answer me. Will you allow me to go all the way with this?" He had to ask before he actually placed down a strip in case Francis didn't want to follow through with this. Arthur wanted to go ahead but he knew it'd be too reckless and uncaring for him not to ask for this consent.

"Oui, monsieur. Utiliser moi comme bon vous semble, s'il vous plaît. Je suis à vous." Being submissive was fairly easy in this case, but it was a switch-off for being able to grope Arthur and make him moan, to brush his fingertips against his thighs and be able to make him squirm and beg for his cock, spittle dribbling down his chin and lips swo—

Arthur had placed a strip above the Frenchman's member and ripped it off, interrupting his thoughts. Searing pain settles down below before Francis spits out a quick curse in his native tongue: "Merde!" His face is screwed in pain, breath coming in short gasps as he tries to cope with the sudden sting.

"Excuse you," Arthur leans over his lover with a darkened expression, "but who said you could talk yet? I said to talk to answer me only. After this morning I thought you'd learnt your lesson, dirty frog, but apparently not, Hands and knees, now!" He barks out the order as he settles the strips aside. There was no way he'd give up an opportunity as golden as this.

A firm bottom is presented before him and a smile stretches across Arthur's lips. His hands settle on the twin globes, squeezing and spreading them apart to reveal the pink puckered entrance. Leaning down, he slides his tongue from the base of Francis' spine to the crack of his ass before pulling back slowly, a whine meeting the withdrawal.

"Have you been bad, frog? Do you deserve a punishment?" His tone is light with an underlying sexual intent, one hand digging his dulled nails into the soft flesh. Arthur lifts the hand before delivering a heavy slap to the right cheek. The mewl produced if nothing if not utterly delectable. "I think a good spanking is in order."

Francis pushes back his hips, moving from his hands onto his forearms to naturally spread himself before the Englishman. Another slap is delivered spurring on a hushed moan, face pushing into his smooth forearms. The hand falls on his another cheek now, flesh reddening from the contact.

He's spanked mercilessly, Arthur nipping the agitated skin every few moments and lapping around his entrance to tease the elder; it was no secret that Francis enjoyed this sort of treatment once in a blue moon. He pulls out a strip and places it on the skin between his balls and hole lightly.

"Now, frog, this will hurt but I assure you it'll be every bit worth your while." Arthur rubs a red bottom slowly before removing the strip from the sensitive area, a howl meeting his actions, Leaning down, he attaches his mouth to the area and runs his tongue repeatedly over the irritated flesh. His tongue trails around and up to the puckered hole and, slurping up the excess of spit lewdly, he delves the slick muscle inside.

The hiss of pain transitions into first a squawk then into a low groan, sweat beading on his hairline as he rocks back against the hot mouth encasing his bottom.

After a few moments Arthur pulls back and chuckles at the impatient whine he receives in return. "You're such an impatient bastard. Get on your back so I can finish up the rest and give you your treat." The elder follows his commands, presenting him with a half-hard cock amass the curly hair he was about to remove with special care.

Francis bites back any utterance about to be made in favor of rolling his hips up into the air. The tile was freezing his back but the blond made no complaint whatsoever; it could wait a bit longer to be attended to.

Warm fingers grasp his manhood to deliver a few firm strokes, the thumb rubbing his swollen tip with every pump. The Frenchman felt a wax strip being pressed to the hair at the base and automatically tenses. Arthur hovers over his partner mumbling something meant to be of reassurance, before ripping away the strips until every bit of pubic hair is gone.

Francis bites into his lip and thrashes slightly at every new sting; it hurt more than every other place on his body but the combined pain of everywhere else countered the one around his member. His patience is rewarded by a surprisingly gentle kiss pressed to his left hip, Arthur's hair brushing against the flesh as he scoots back to lay between the Frenchman's legs fully.

"You can talk now, I'm done." Glancing up with playful emeralds, his tongue snakes across the flesh and up the base of Francis' member. "You've done exceptionally well, for a frog, so I supposed I'll pay you back with a blow job, eh? Sound fair?"

"Non, Rosbif." The Frenchman scowls slightly and pushes himself up on one elbow to fist Arthur's hair with the other. "It isn't fair but I'll take it if I can be in control now." It hasn't been a full day but apparently Arthur decided to be a bit gracious and called it off for Francis' behalf. At least now he could receive compensation. He adds in a charming smile to win him over.

"You're pathetic, Francis." He watches the elder push onto his knees when he shoves down his head, pressing his cheek into his hipbone with a grin.

"I'm eager, is all. You promised me a good treat, Arthur, so suck." A warm tongue slides around the base, pressing to the vein on the underside before moving back. Arthur presses a kiss beside the spot and moves up and down the length with his tongue moving across the throbbing flesh. The grip in his hair was firm but not commanding.

Upon reaching the top, the blond flicks the swollen head with his tongue before enveloping it with his mouth. The Englishman sucks once, gathering spittle in his mouth before leaning up and letting it fall from his lips. The cloudy liquid slides down Francis' manhood a moment; Arthur swipes it up with his fingertips to use as a make-shift lubricant when he begins stroking him.

"Très bien, Arthur. Bon garçon." His breath hitches a moment before evening out, slim digits massaging the younger man's scalp approvingly whilst he takes more of the hardened flesh into his mouth. Bright emeralds shift up to meet smothering blues when a firm suck is delivered. A shiver runs up Francis' spine and he thrusts up on impulse into the wet cavern. Arthur gags and draws back, cheeks gradually tinting to a fair red.

The head begins to brush the back of his throat every tip he bobs down, making Francis a bit more excited at the prospect of a deeper contact. His hips roll up as both hands tangle in Arthur's hair. A slow pressure builds in his abdomen slowly before pleasure begins eating at the very fiber of his soul, every moment sparking with ecstasy.

Excited babbles fall from Francis' lips and the lewd slurping from below only spurs on the inevitable release. His thighs clench and twitch occasionally, blond strands hooding his face as he leans over Arthur with a shuddering cry.

Seed shoots into the Englishman's mouth and he swallows around him before pulling back, making a pop as he lets the flaccid member fall from his lips. His tongue peeks out to lick away the cum slowly; Arthur smirks to himself before Francis speaks up.

"Rosbif."

"Twit."

"I love you, Arthur."

"I tolerate you, Francis."


End file.
